Ana turned pleading eyes his way, like she was begging him to understand her reasoning. A large part of him was loudly—and violently—protesting any reasoning that led to her not immediately leaving. Hell, she should have killed the motherfucker before she left—actually, she should have done that the moment he laid a hand on her.
But the part of him that didn’t want her to lay any more blame at her own doorstep refused to let those words escape—even though he had to forcibly swallow them down, along with the unceasing growl his leopard began letting out the moment she said he hit her.
“I understand why you felt like everything had to be perfect in order to escape him,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, strained with the effort to keep his rage and animal’s growl to himself. “And I can also see the way you blame yourself for this, too. Don’t, Ana. The blame for all of this lays on that ball-less motherfucker. Not you. Never you.”
“It does lay on me, though,” she whispered, her eyes downcast and her hand squeezing his tighter. “I should have left then, but I thought I needed more time to prepare. After the second time I was in the hospital—broken wrist that time, after I fell and caught myself wrong—I began sneaking out. He would leave on business, a trip every week. Sometimes a day trip, other times for a few days. That’s when I began self defense classes. And… that’s when I bought a gun. I learned how to shoot while he was gone, too.”
His eyebrows rose. Of all the things he’d thought she might say, that had never crossed his mind. “You have a gun?”
A tiny smile curled her lips up, making him catch his breath before it vanished. She nodded to her bag, sitting discarded on the bed. “In there. I didn’t have a chance to get to it before he grabbed me in the store. It was pretty useless when I actually needed it.”
“You might have been able to get to it when it truly counted,” he said gruffly, squeezing her hand and thanking God that he’d gotten to her before she really had needed it. “Ana… why didn’t the hospital notice? You were in there twice. How could they not suspect?”
She gave a little shrug. “There are a lot of hospitals in Dallas. We never went to the same one twice.”
Fuck. His guts were twisting with her story and he felt sick for everything she endured. It was the fucking last thing he wanted to do, but he nodded and urged her on. “Makes sense, I guess. How did you finally get out?”
Pure and utter heartbreak shined out of her light blue eyes, and he opened his mouth to call back his question, but she continued before he could. “I had a positive pregnancy test.”
Chapter Two Hundred Fourteen
Pain lanced Ana’s heart as she spoke the words. Trying and failing to beat it back, she looked at Bolt for a distraction, watching as his eyes became more green than hazel—something she’d noticed them doing a few times during her story.
He glanced down at her belly, and when he met her gaze again, he wore a frown that at any other time would have scared her. He looked fierce, like he was ready to take his gun, run back to the store, and kill Shawn—and then maybe kill him a few more times for good measure.
“Ana…”
Briefly closing her eyes, she prayed for the courage to get the rest out. Her past was poison, festering inside her, slowly killing her more surely than Shawn ever tried to do. She needed to get it out, but she hated the thought of putting it on Bolt.
No matter how broad his shoulders were. They might be able to handle it, but this was her pain, and it was her choices that led to that pain. She was torn—she didn’t want that poison in him, but she needed it out of her.
Why she felt so strongly toward a man she didn’t know that well, why she hated the thought of tainting him with her past, she wasn’t sure. She just did, and it was something to think about when she had more time.
But she’d already begun letting her poison out. She couldn’t stop now, and judging by the look on Bolt’s face, he wasn’t going to let her.
Inhaling deeply, she tore her gaze from his, looking down at their clasped hands. She drew more comfort from his touch, and felt safer than she had in years, than she could admit.
Not to him, and not even really to herself.
Something else to think about when she had the luxury.
“I was terrified when I found out,” she admitted softly, keeping her gaze on their linked hands. “The thought of bringing a baby into that toxic and abusive household was more than I could bear. Shawn was away on business trip, but he was due home that same night. But I vowed that no matter what, when he left again—and I knew he would soon—I’d be gone that same day. At that point, it had been almost a year and a half since the first time he hit me.
“I knew I should have left long before that, but I also hadn’t been sitting around, doing nothing while I waited on the next time to happen. I’d slowly been gathering cash, I’d been taking those classes, I’d been learning to shoot. I even managed to find someone who made me a couple fake
